Muscle
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Your heart is a muscle, it contracts and relaxes again and again until the day that it doesn’t. Until the day you will no longer need it. But it is still a muscle
When we run, what do we have to show for it?
When we're nervous, no one will know of it
When we draw it, we obscure it
And defile and hurt it
It's ill-conceived to put
The word love, with the word hurt
